


Magdalene Lane

by Galactia



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst, Gen, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galactia/pseuds/Galactia
Summary: King Tirian appears to the Friends of Narnia, Edmund makes a rash decision (controversial opinion), and struggles with the fallout. Lucy would really like it if Susan turned up to deal with all this nonsense. Peter Does Not like witches. Jill and Eustace are mostly just uncomfortable but are 100% Polly's favourites. Everybody is briefly at each others throats? I don't know how this became Melodrama central...
Relationships: Digory Kirke & Polly Plummer, Edmund Pevensie & Lucy Pevensie & Peter Pevensie & Susan Pevensie, Jill Pole & Eustace Scrubb
Kudos: 11





	Magdalene Lane

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I haven’t written in a million years and decided to try and get back into it by fleshing out the scene (quoted below) from the Last Battle, where Tirian appears to the Friends of Narnia whilst dreaming. It was supposed to be very short and simple, but since I’m trying to get back into writing I kind of just let myself write anything, hence it got out of hand very quickly!!! Now its a follow-on with a TON of melodrama and ALL THE ADJECTIVES… so is rather a hot mess! Sorry to inflict it on the web but I think if I don’t I’ll either give up or go into eternal edit mode so… that’s my excuse…
> 
> I’m pretending that Digory has downsized to a house on a Magdalene Lane but pretty much just for the purposes of the Don Mclean song... And I'm ignoring the '15 years' in Narnia for the Pevensies because it's in a letter, not any of the books, and it always irritates me (main reason)...
> 
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
> The Last Battle, Chapter 4
> 
> "Children! Children! Friends of Narnia! Quick. Come to me. Across the worlds I call you; I Tirian, King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands!"  
> And immediately he was plunged into a dream (if it was a dream) more vivid than any he had had in his life.  
> ...  
> Then Tirian realised that these people could see him; they were staring at him as if they saw a ghost. But he noticed that the king-like one who sat at the old man's right never moved (though he turned pale) except that he clenched his hand very tight. Then he said:  
> "Speak, if you're not a phantom or a dream. You have a Narnian look about you and we are the seven friends of Narnia."  
> Tirian was longing to speak, and he tried to cry out aloud that he was Tirian of Narnia, in great need of help. But he found (as I have sometimes found in dreams too) that his voice made no noise at all.  
> The one who had already spoken to him arose to his feet. "Shadow or spirit or whatever you are," he said, fixing his eyes full upon Tirian. "If you are from Narnia, I charge you in the name of Aslan, speak to me. I am Peter the High King."  
> The room began to swim before Tirian's eyes. He heard the voices of those seven people all speaking at once, and all getting fainter every second, and they were saying things like, "Look! It's fading." "It's melting away." "It's vanishing.”  
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edmund rushed forward into the dwindling shape of the apparition. Muttering a prayer to the lion he tried to remember snatches of cryptic conversations with elusive centaurs and smug witches, the boom of Peter’s voice behind him ordering him to stop almost drowning out the faint memories and absolutely compelling him to roll his eyes as he charged.

In front of him the wan face, racked with despair more vivid than it was now, fell open in shock as the spectre realised what was happening. Then Edmund was standing in the same space as their visitor, the pale mist parting to envelop him as fog clings to the ground before the dawn. He suppressed a shudder at the memory that it dredged up, an island of nightmares, and let it go on the moment of hope as the dim film of the arm around his own swirled with new energy and began to flush with faint colour again. The voices behind him melted into a distant rumble but faintly he heard Lucy’s fierce cry “it’s working!” and took heart. Then the body coalescing around him trembled and now he could feel the whirlpool force dragging at it. Fear stabbed their hearts as one and together they clenched muscles of air and sinew, ten fingered fists fusing into knotted rocks, jaws locking, hips sinking and bracing against each other as they dug their feet into the same ground. Edmund felt tightness all over his skin as the ghost shrank into him, he could feel him grasping at his mind for purchase, something to anchor him to his flesh and blood host, and Edmund, pushing past his horror of this invasion, pried open his mind and gave his guest the sanctuary he needed. 

A different horror met his and overwhelmed it, a strangers’ grief and despair flooding through him until it was his own, and he had failed Narnia, again, again! A strangled cry burst from them, hope was gone, Jewel was gone, the life in his veins mocked him like a silted dun figure led around by an ape. They became aware of noise again, the voices of strangers, a young man crying a name he had heard before but could not place, a girl, closer still, yelling in harsh pleading tones he knew and did not but he could not answer them and their voices faded, the warm light faded, the force that had dragged at his bones was pulling him in and the dark night seeped back around him, the cold slipped along his skin like a ghostly breath, the girl’s voice was screaming from far away and the rough tree swelled painfully against his back. 

With a cry he wrenched at the ropes that bit into his wrists, pinioning his arms behind the wide tree. In the dinning room, one arm, free of any resistance, swung wildly, his fist hammering into a vase on the edge of the sideboard, sending it flying up and back into the wall. Shattering glass filled the sudden silence and the warm, well-lit space around him, his mind was empty and echoing, his eyes unseeing as he stared at the glass exploding towards him. Strong fingers untangled their death grip on his other wrist and shoulder, leaving bruising pain blossoming warmly behind them as the hands reached to grab him, spin him. A girl he knew better than himself but could not name pulled his head down till their foreheads met, her bare hands shielding his exposed ears as icicle shards of dripping glass and splintered water rained down on them like a dying winter. The vase seemed to take hours to shatter- a confused thought stumbled across Edmund’s blank mind, a distant stab of panic that he was stuck in Narnian time in England, that he had sinned again, dabbling in dark magics, opening his mind to spirits and now he would be like a ghost himself in his own life-again! And then it would be just Lucy and Peter left, and the Lion knew what would happen when they were left unsupervised, his mind supplied in his other sister’s wry tones, and Susan’s voice brought him crashing back into himself, and he knew the colourless, tense face inches from his own as Lucy’s face, could hear her growling his name over and over, furious and loving, her warm breath washing over his cold face like the Lion’s own. 

He remembered how to shift the weight of his singular, solid body and leaned in, his forehead pressing hard against hers. Her fingers curled and dug against the delicate shells of his ears, angry and possessive even as her warm thumbs ran gently back and forth across his cheeks. He realised the water flowing down his face was his own tears, remembered taste as salt seeped through his locked lips, stinging them open, and then his lungs gave a heave and dragged down air, and dragged again and again, clawing up his throat, clamping shut, and he was retching and sobbing in panic, at sea in his own body in that sickeningly familiar way, his mind full of a stranger’s emotions, taken root and growing within the answering feelings they had found there; his eyes full of a stranger’s sight. 

The girl in front of a him -a stranger, a sister, a warrior, a healer- straightened, her face clearing of the tumult of her own emotions as she brought one hand to cup his cheek, and one to lie flat, warm against his chest. A young man loomed behind her and came round to stand at his shoulder, huge hands wide islands of heat as they spread against his upper back and both of their voices, low and calm, asked him to focus on their hands, on their voices, on the weight of his feet on the ground, on the strength of their love, on the heat and crackle of the fire dancing in the grate, the smell of the meat. Back and forth they went like a shuttle on a loom, weaving him back into himself, into the time and place they were now, weaving a spell of love and protection that let his screaming mussels sag into relief, air moving through his body as it relaxed. The three siblings shared a moment of relived laughter, no more than three shooting expulsions of rueful breath as they remembered, with sorrow and fondness, all the times they had comforted each other over the years, brought each other back over and over from the edge of panic and grief, the brink of madness.

“If you are quite done with the theatrics” a tart voice broke in. Polly tapped a dustpan and brush against each other meaningfully. “Lets get the glass off you two quick as we can, hmm?” They all blinked at her, remembering the others in the room, and Peter hastily obeyed as she shooed him away, waiting only for Edmund and Lucy to snap their eyes and mouths closed as instructed before weighing in with her brush, swiping vigorously at hair and shoulders, down their arms and over Edmund’s back. When he opened his eyes and looked around him for the first time he thought for a dazed moment that one of them was injured, gobs of blood spattered in large drops amid the glass strewn over the floor, but his mind, apparently back in control, told him irritably to stop being a fool and notice that he was staring wide-eyed at red rose petals. Beside him, Lucy had clearly understood what had just happened and snorted at him, grinning. He tried to look dignified and elbow her at the same time.

Polly gave them a dark look as she herded them back towards the table, turning a veritably dazzling smile of approval on Eustace coming up with a sturdy broom. “Such a sensible young man.” She praised him as he began to sweep up the mess, looking rather pallid and glad of something practical to focus on. As if unable to help herself she cast a sidelong glance at the three monarchs huddled together, clearly wondering again how they had possibly managed to run a kingdom. They all shared a knowing look and bit back their laughter. ‘And of course’ one of them would immediately say if they ever discussed it ‘she doesn’t know Susan, not really’.

The laughter left Lucy’s face as she looked at her brother. “Edmund, you idiot, if I wasn’t so relived right now I’d curse you out to next Tuesday! What were you thinking you blockhead? Friel said over and over how dangerous it is to open your mind to a spirit like that-”

Peter groaned. “I should have known that witch had something to do with this-”

Lucy rounded on him “Friel was very clear anyone messing around like that was a fool and likely to loose their mind. And I have made it perfectly clear that just because Susan isn’t here, right now, doesn’t mean you can go back to grumbling about the love of your sister’s life- she was our friend too. Besides, Peter,” Lucy rolled her eyes, “we can’t all have wholesome seasonal flings with a forest of dryads and hamadryads can we?”

“I don’t see why not.” Peter muttered, “And I don’t remember you thinking that was such a terrible idea at the time, sister of mine.”

“I didn’t ‘think it was a good idea’ whilst envying my siblings for falling in love with one person.” Lucy retorted, ignoring the look of outrage on her eldest brother’s face as she turned back to her other brother. “Edmund, remember Friel’s aunt? She wanted to ignite a rebellion against Jadis, and summoned the spirit of Queen Swanwhite-”

“Yes,” Edmund growled, “I know, and allowed the Queen’s spirit- or whatever it was that answered her call- to posses her and went completely mad. I remember. Would you please consider respecting the fact that I knew the risk I was taking and deemed my actions meet? Have we not all pledged with solemn and most holy vows to protect our land, laying down our very lives to defend it, as you and I have often done in battle and thought it fitting, nay, an honour? What, should I now forget oath, and courage and desire to defend my land? Is that your counsel?”

Lucy’s eyes flashed fire but across the table Jill groaned loudly and Eustace swatted Edmund’s legs with his broom. “I don’t know whether you did something jolly brave or jolly stupid -I can’t say I understand what just happened- but for Aslan’s sake, and, more particularly, ours, do stop the high and mighty babble before you give us all an earache.”

It took a confused moment before the three of them realised what he meant. Edmund sighed heavily. Lucy leaned against him. “We can continue discussing your foolishness later- both in letting spirits into you head and in questioning my valour.” She said meaningfully. 

Edmund kissed the top of her head, knowing a coming growth spurt would soon make that impossible “I would never question your valour” he said fervently

“And I respect your judgement, but the price you risked paying terrifies me.” She replied quietly.

He raised his eyebrows. “Did Aslan not pay a greater price?” He murmured, so quietly his siblings only understood because of how well they knew him, and their faces filled with anger on his behalf.

“That debt is paid.” Peter rumbled, his throat tight with the intensity of his emotion.

“Many times over.” Lucy affirmed, her voice ringing with certainty. 

Behind Peter the Professor coughed politely and reluctantly they turned to him. “Perhaps,” he suggested, “it is time we discussed this matter together. In plain English, I’m afraid.” He added, eyes taking on a gleam of amusement. 

Peter and Lucy looked to Edmund and at his nod they moved as one, a hand brushing each of his shoulders as they sat down in a group.

Polly, displaced, gave a sniff as she plucked her wine glass from the end seat in front of Lucy and sat in the girl’s vacated chair, across from the boys. Eustace, probably thinking of all the times wine had helped to warm and calm him on his adventures, poured Edmund a large glass and clapped him awkwardly on the back before sitting down at last. 

There was silence, everyone exchanging glances. “He looked like Rillian.” Jill said quietly at last.

Eustace nodded. “And Caspain too.” At that all the younger people at the table nodded agreement.

“He looked like Rillian when the chair was broken, the desperation, the grief.” Jill added. 

Edmund winced. The ghost’s violent emotions still coursed through his veins, though they had begun to fade. “He was desperate,” he said haltingly. “And grieving.”

“What happened?” Digory asked gently. “Did he talk to you?”

Edmund shook his head and took a gulp of wine. “It wasn’t like that.” He said. “But I could… sense how he felt. And I saw- images from his memory, a unicorn led away with a rope around their neck, a… I don’t know, something that was...a little bit like a lion, but not- with an ape. And I saw-” his breath caught as he realised “I saw the stars, Narnian stars, above me, he was definitely in Narnia. And the smells… But he was tied to a tree, tightly bound.”

“So not dead.” the Professor mused.

“Who is he?” Eustace asked impatiently, but Edmund shook his head. 

“I had hoped I could help him talk to us, as he was trying to do.” He said regretfully.

“Why didn’t you try turning around?” Jill asked, frowning.

“What?” Edmund looked bemused 

“If you wanted to help him speak, surely it would have made more sense for, you know, everything to be in the same place? Your throats and mouths? Wouldn’t that have made it easier to, lend him your voice, as it were?”

Polly gave Jill a glowing look. “That’s the most practical thing I’ve heard anyone say all week.” 

“A bit too practical.” Lucy shot back defensively, “It’s magic for goodness sake. Practical is good, but it isn’t everything.” Sometimes Polly’s deepseated belief that any of the other Friends of Narnia, especially herself, would have been more suited to ruling, stopped being funny and just got on her nerves.

“Oh, uhh, I’m not sure that’s how it works.” Edmund replied to Jill slowly. “I’m not sure he was here in a way that would have been affected by that… its more like lending your energy, your belonging in this place…”

Jill, and Polly and Eustace, all looked sceptical. Peter decided to move the conversation along. “I think we can say with certainty,” he said gravely “that something is very wrong in Narnia. To my knowledge, nothing like this has ever happened before. Can anyone think of anything like this, anything strange and unexplained that could have been like this?” He looked at Polly and Digory. “Anything that might have happened when the tree of protection was poisoned, and Jadis invaded?” They looked thoughtful but after a moment both shook their heads.

“It’s a little like the painting.” Lucy said, frowning. “We never have managed to make sense of that.”

Eustace nodded at once and Edmund continued “how could that painting have been of the Dawn Treader? How could it have come to life like that- it wasn’t made from the tree like the wardrobe.”

“And Narnia wasn’t in danger.” Eustace pointed out.

“Whereas is was, as you said, Peter, in danger when the tree of protection was poisoned.” Polly added stiffly.

“Or when Rillian’s mother was poisoned.” Jill agreed. 

“You could argue Narnia was in danger on our last visit,” Lucy pointed out “If we hadn’t been there I’m not sure Caspian would have gotten back to Narnia.”

“We didn’t change his mind about his great neverending adventure” Edmund countered “Aslan did.”

She shrugged, unconvinced. “He learned from us- remember how hard it was for the four of us to learn how to rule, and he was about Susan’s age when he ascended, with no good model of monarchy to follow.” Lucy said contemplatively, “Besides, he would have dived into that accursed pool- or worse.” The three shipmates shuddered instinctively at the thought of Deathwater.

Edmund looked shamefaced. “It’s certainly a good thing you were there.” He mumbled.

Lucy shoved at him companionably. “You’d have realised what an ass you were being on your own in the end. And I agree, it wasn’t the kind of danger we’d been summoned to face before, or you two after.” She tipped her head towards her cousin and Pole. “It is confusing.” 

“I don’t see how the painting is any odder than a door in the wall at our school suddenly becoming a gateway is.” Jill interjected. “To Aslan’s own country?”

Peter made an impatient gesture. “We have been through this before- this discussion goes nowhere.” He said firmly. “We have chosen to put our fate and our faith in the Lion’s paws, and that seems to be the only sense to be found in this. What we need to understand is why our guest appeared? By Aslan’s will or by some other means? And what are we to do?” 

“What about the tree?” Polly said slowly. Five faces were confused but Digory nodded at once.

“The branches would move in the wind.” He sighed, his gaze shifting into the past.

“When there was no wind.” Polly took over again as he was clearly not going to continue with the important information. “Not in this world, at least.”

A murmur ran around the table. 

“What about Coriakin?” Lucy said suddenly 

“Yes,” Edmund said at once, excited, “A powerful magician- and a star.”

“And the blood of stars runs in the veins of Narnia’s royal family, now.” Lucy finished. 

“You think the King of Narnia visited us?” Peter frowned. “In such distress?” He looked uneasy “but if it was star’s blood in his veins that allowed him to reach across worlds to us, perhaps Aslan has no intention of bringing him help from this world.”

“Scrubb and I are able to go back, why wouldn’t it be now?” Jill said angrily.

“If it is against Aslan’s will I doubt any attempt to cross worlds will get far.” Digory interjected calmly.

Lucy surged to her feet, stung by the passivity in both men’s tones, brining her hands down on the table. “But neither should we sit around waiting for Him to wave his paw when we know something is wrong! Once a King or Queen of Narnia always a King or Queen of Narnia, Peter, Aslan himself told us that- gave Narnia into our care- our first duty is to protect our country; we can’t just shrug our shoulders because the Lion may not will it! Why should he have changed his mind about our obligations? Can they ever be taken from us, once given? Wherever we happen to be!”

Edmund shot her a glance and raised his eyebrows meaningfully, she stuck her tongue out at him and plonked back down. 

“I said no such thing!” Peter defended himself. “But knowing what the Lion wills is a material fact in deciding how to proceed- and our duty is to him as much as it is to Narnia, Lucy. What are we to do, if He does not provide a way? The wardrobe was destroyed by the fire-” He gave the professor an apologetic look as the older man winced at the mention of the blaze which had destroyed a large swathe of his manor. “So what are we to do? Any witches’ rituals you think we should try?” He jibed, earning a glare from both his siblings. 

“We could try the gate at the experiment house.” Eustace said doubtfully.

“Or try and find the gate the Telmarines came through.” Lucy added, without much hope. “If we could find the island, they’d know where the gate was.”

Peter shook his head. “We saw Aslan seal that route closed ourselves.” He said. “Even if we could find it, which I doubt.”

There was a frustrated, miserable silence around the table. Lucy closed her eyes and remembered swaying at the top of a mast in pitch darkness, surrounded by nightmares, her shipmates being consumed by their own individual terrors, cut off from one another. Then a bright spark coming towards them, an albatross, the sweet smell and the beloved voice whispering ‘have courage, dear heart’. She breathed deeply, letting love for Aslan swell in her heart. She had faith, but she also knew the lion wished them to try and solve their own problems, find their own path. He was not an excuse to give up or shut out, as she often saw people around her use their religion.

In the tense silence, Polly and Digory exchanged meaningful glances, gazes locking until they each nodded and the professor cleared his throat gingerly. “There may,” he started “be another way for our youngest companions to get there...” He trailed off and looked to his friend.

“The rings Digory and I used still exist.” Polly said evenly, though her fingers were knotted in her lap. “It is possible they still work.”

In the stunned silence three sharp intakes of breath from the Pevensive corner sounded like pistons. Without even realising it they had joined hands, Edmund’s gripped on both sides by enraged knights of the order of the lion. Edmund was the remaining diplomat in their ranks, and he jumped in before either of his hotheaded siblings said something they’d regret. “Why have you chosen not to speak of this matter before?” He tried hard to keep the accusation from his voice.

The sexagenarians shifted uncomfortably under three accusing stares. “You had been sent back.” Digory spread his hands. 

“Sent?” Lucy almost spat.

“Child you know if Aslan had not willed it you would not have stumbled back out of that wardrobe-” Polly continued.

“I am not a child.” Lucy ground out. “I am an adult – I reigned for decades in Narnia- and if one of our advisors had kept such information from us we would have called in treason.” She was snarling by the end, her grip almost crushing Edmund’s fingers. 

“We are not your subjects.” Polly snapped coldly, drawing herself up. 

“We had thought you were our friends.” Peter broke in, just as coldly. 

Edmund knew that tone and jumped in quickly. “I think we are struggling to understand why it never seemed right to you to tell us these rings still existed.” He said, as calmly as he could, but, like his siblings, it was hard to think of anything but stumbling back through a wardrobe, shrunken and broken, and the land they had left, the people left behind, the invasion that had eventually claimed their country. “Why not tell us this when we first came back? Let us choose whether to try to return home?” 

Polly gestured impatiently. “By the time you had used them- any number of years could have passed! We had no idea if they would work, and Aslan had left us with the strong impression that they were not to be used again! I’m not convinced we should use them now!”

“You were struggling.” Digory chimed in. “It was so difficult for you coming back, setting you off on a wild goose chase just as you were trying to remember your real lives...”

“If Aslan had not wanted you to return here, surely you would have remained in Narnia.” Polly took up the defence when he faltered. “And if He willed you here- as He said to each of you, as you’ve told us, at the end of your last adventures, then how could trinkets Digory’s uncle made countermand the will of a God?” 

“You didn’t know that then.” Peter said, his tone even colder

“And you told us how the rings took you to Charn, and Jadis here, and then to Narnia itself.” Edmund pointed out, finding his own voice rather icy. 

“Would you have wanted to force your way back against the Lion’s Will?” Polly said, exasperated. 

“Surely,” Lucy said, and Edmund was terrifed to realise how cold her own voice was. “That was our decision to make.” 

“You were not of that world!” Polly’s hands were clenched so hard on the arms of her chair that her knuckles had turned white.

“Neither were Queen Helen and King Frank.” Edmund shot back. “And yet they stayed and founded a dynasty-” He swallowed thickly past the sudden lump in his throat at the thought of the children he might have had.

“You were children.” The professor said “and your lives had been so hard, so dangerous-” He broke off as Peter rose to his feet.

“We were not children. Miss Plumber, you have never known us as children.” 

“Susan was right.” Lucy seethed. “You have never understood. You think our ‘adventure’ was like your own, you have no idea what it was like to live there- we were Narnian! For twenty years! And we were adults, we rode to war- I have killed men and beasts, and I have saved lives. I have passed judgement and I have granted forgiveness. We did not remember this place! Those years are not an adventure, or a fantasy! They are real! And we deserved the right to try and return, even if we risked being lost in the Wood Between the Worlds, or Aslan’s own anger, it was our choice to make!”

“And you kept it from us.” Peter said, voice suddenly hollow, fingers limp in Edmund’s grasp. 

Edmund tightened his grip, the spectre’s emotions flaring to new life as Edmund’s own mirrored them more strongly. “Nevertheless,” he said, “that cannot now be changed. We must think of the danger Narnia is in now.” He looked over at Jill and Eustace, who looked rather shellshocked. “What do you say? Would you risk using the rings?”

“Yes!” They blurted together, relived at being able to do something. “Of course we will.” Eustace added, sending a rather shaky smile towards Jill. She nodded, excitement already washing the discomfort from her face. 

“I need to practice my hand to hand combat.” She exclaimed. “Lucy, will you train with me?” She looked eagerly at the older girl and seemed to remember the last few minutes very suddenly as she saw her expression, her own face falling.

Lucy sighed deeply. “Yes,” she said, managing a smile. “Of course I will. Tomorrow though. Now, I think my brothers and I will take a walk before bed. If you feel well enough, Edmund?”

He nodded and in silence the three stumbled out of the house and into the darkness.


End file.
